A.C. Arthur - One Mistletoe Wish

For the first time ever Gray held his breath as he waited for the answer.

Her fingers seemed to tighten around the glass she held before she replied, “My husband died in Afghanistan.”

It was a simple statement and yet it held as much power as if she’d reached out and socked him herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

Gray moved beside her then, taking her elbow lightly, and began to walk toward the tree. “Do you like Christmas?”

“What?” she asked as they moved.

“Do you like Christmas? That’s what Lily asked me last night. Now I want to know your answer.”

“Yes, I love Christmas,” she said before taking another sip of her punch.

Gray hadn’t bothered to sip his.

“It’s a wonderful time of year. A time for family and fellowship, miracles and happiness.”

“You sound like one of those greeting-card commercials,” he replied.

“And you sound like the star of my play, Ebenezer Scrooge,” she snapped back.

They’d come to a stop near the huge Christmas tree that was nestled in a far corner of the room. It had to be at least ten feet tall and was decorated with what looked like every sort of bulb, bell, ribbon and light ever created for this season.

“I don’t have anything in particular against the holiday,” Gray confided. He’d walked farther around the tree toward the side that was facing two large windows.

The old window shades were tattered at the edges and if anyone attempted to pull them down farther, they’d surely crumple into pieces. So more than half the window was bare, leaving a view of the side street, where only two cars were parked and the sidewalk was clear. At this time of evening on a Sunday night, if Gray had looked out the window of his penthouse in Miami he was sure to see lines of traffic and people headed toward the clubs or the beach. There was always something going on in the city, some party or meeting, a huge wedding, or a celebrity sighting. Never a dull moment, and never a quiet street like this.

“Do you normally spend the holiday with the rest of your family?”

Gray lifted his head to see Morgan standing right beside him. She’d put her glass down on the windowsill and he did the same before thinking about an answer to her question. He hadn’t thought of his siblings in the traditional sense of the word family. The fact that they each lived in different states could be the reason for that. They’d been born together and had lived together for eighteen years. They were the closest thing to friends Gray had ever had, and the only ones who shared the same dark disappointments of the past with him.

“No. My sisters and brothers have their own lives,” he replied.

“There are six of you—surely you find time to spend with each other at some point. I only have one sister and it seems like we’re never apart,” she told him.

She looked across the room and Gray followed her gaze. More people had come in, filling up the tables. The sound of numerous voices had grown a bit louder. The instrumental holiday music still sounded over the guests’ voices and Gray found himself thankful for the partial privacy of this corner. He didn’t want to talk to any of the people out there, but here, on this side of the tree with all its twinkling lights reflecting off the window, he was content to stand with this woman.

“Yes, there are six of us. I’m the oldest. Born almost immediately after me were Garrek, Gemma, Genevieve, Gage and Gia. Once we turned eighteen we all went our separate ways.”

“And you don’t keep in touch? That’s not good. I mean, it’s kind of sad. I would think that you would be closer,” she said, then clamped her lips shut again.

Gray shook his head. “It’s not a problem. A lot of people think a lot of things about the Taylor sextuplets. They have since the first airing of that damn television show. None of them know the truth.”

“You sound as if the truth is sad,” she replied quietly.

Gray shrugged. “It is what it is.”

She nodded. “Just like you selling the buildings, I guess.”

Her back was to the window and Gray moved to stand in front of her. He rubbed the backs of his fingers lightly over her cheek.

“Those buildings mean something to you, don’t they?” he asked her.

She shrugged this time, shifting from one foot to the other as if his proximity was making her nervous. Being this close to her was making him hot and aroused. He wondered if that’s what she was really feeling as well.

“This town means something to me. There are good people here and we’re trying to do good things.”

“That’s what my mother used to say,” Gray continued, loving the feel of her smooth skin beneath his touch. “Temptation was a good place. Love, family, loyalty. They meant something to the town. Always. That’s what she used to tell us when we were young. But that was after the show, after my father found something better outside of this precious town of Temptation.”

Gray could hear the sting to his tone, felt the tensing of his muscles that came each time he thought about Theodor Taylor and all that he’d done to his family. Yes, Gray had buried his father two months ago. He’d followed the old man’s wishes right down to the ornate gold handles on the slate-gray casket, but Gray still hated him. He still despised any man who could walk away from his family without ever looking back.

“Show me something better,” he said as he stared down into Morgan’s light brown eyes. “Show me what this town is really about and maybe I’ll reconsider selling.”

“Are you making a bargain with me?” she asked. “Because if you are, I don’t know what to say. I’m not used to wheeling-and-dealing big businessmen like you.”

“I’m asking you to give me a reason why I shouldn’t sell those buildings. Just one will do. If you can convince me—”

She was already shaking her head. “I won’t sleep with you, if that’s what you mean by convince you.”

Gray blinked. That wasn’t what he’d meant and the vehement way in which she’d made that declaration had scraped his ego raw.

“I didn’t ask you to sleep with me,” he told her and took a step closer. “But if I did...” He purposely let his words trail off, the tip of his finger sliding closer to the edge of her lips.

“I’d still say no. I don’t sleep with uptight businessmen,” she told him, that stubborn chin of hers jutting forward.

If she could have, Gray was certain she would have backed all the way out of that window to get away from him. That wasn’t going to happen, especially not when he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, until she was flush against his chest the same way she had been last night when she’d bumped into him. He liked her right there, liked the heat that immediately spread throughout his body with her in this position.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I won’t ask you. I don’t sleep with small-town women with chips on their shoulders.”

“I’m not—” she began but Gray quieted her words by touching his lips immediately to hers.

White-hot heat seared through him at the touch. His tongue swooped inside, taking her by surprise. A warm and delicious surprise that had him wrapping his other arm around her and holding her tight. Her hands came around to his back, clenching the material of his suit jacket as she opened her mouth wider to his assault. They were consuming each other, right here in the corner of this room at the hospital where Gray and his siblings had been born.

He wanted to turn her just a little, to press her back against the wall and take her right here, just like this. He could feel how hot she was and could imagine that same heat pouring over him as she came. She would wrap her legs around him, her short but strong legs would hold him tightly, keeping him securely embedded inside her. They would be short of breath, but love every second of their joining. It would be the best sex...no, it would be really good sex, for Gray, something he hadn’t indulged in often enough.